"But I..." Marcello waved his hands around a bit, flustered. "But you didn't ask about if you'd stopped loving me," he said. "You asked about if you'd loved someone else. And it..I can't be angry at you for that. You loved Dierdre before you ever met me. People love people. I don't understand why that's the wrong answer."

She sighed. "This is why I didn't want to talk about it anymore. I knew I would say something wrong. I love you." She bit her lip. "And I love Dierdre. It's just that the two . . . they've ne'er felt like the same thing to me. I ne'er felt I loved her more or you less. The only thing that troubled me was knowing it was going to hurt you."

"You didn't say something wrong," Marcello replied. "If you're feeling that, we need to talk about it. I'm not telling you you're wrong; I'm telling you that I'm confused."

He reached his hand out for her. "And this is what I meant. I didn't...when it happened, we both just got angry. We didn't talk about these sorts of things. I thought you being with Dierdre meant you loved me less. I was scared I'd lose you. And then I realized that wasn't going to happen-- I guess I started to understand what you're saying right now."

"I wanted to tell you," she said in a small voice. "But then you were gone. And I told myself . . . if only he comes back again, I'll do whate'er he asks."

Marcello shook his head. "But you shouldn't do anything just because you're scared," he said. "Not if it makes you unhappy. That's not how love is supposed to work. And I didn't-- I wouldn't have left," he said. "That shouldn't have happened. You shouldn't have been scared."

She nodded, quietly, without looking up at him. "I'm sorry. That all just sort of came out at once. I didn't mean to let it get away from me."

"It's all right," Marcello replied reassuringly. "I want to hear it. I...I feel awful about this, that I didn't understand it sooner. And that that might have hurt what little time you might have had with Dierdre. Now, in the wake of everything with Duncan."

"That's not the important thing," she said. "Dierdre knows I love her still. She says she understands why I had to give her up, though I think she only said it to please me, to make it easier for me to decide." She frowned. "I almost wish she had not. I don't want to say you are more important to me than she is, but . . . "

"But what?" Marcello asked. "You can say it," he said. "You're my wife. I won't judge you."

"But you are," she said. "And I hate saying that. I hate saying one person I love is more important than another. Maybe it isn't that. Sometimes . . . you seem to need me more than she does."